We Were Meant for Greatness
by Forbiddensoul562
Summary: Mello's maturity was jarring compared to how Near had embedded him in his mind. He remembered how Mello had looked, his behavior and mannerisms that made him who he was. But now all Near saw were the hollow echoes of a ruined empire. Could a night away from the outside world hold the potential to bridge the chasm between what had been, what could've been, and what would never? MxN.


Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own any of the characters used in this story.

Written for: HaleyBopComet

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Title: We Were Meant for Greatness

When Near had decided that taking Mello into custody was the best course of action when he showed himself at the SPK there were two things he hadn't quite expected. First, that the Kira case would almost immediately force him to relocate to Japan in order to continue investigating. Second, and what surprised Near far more, was Mello's willing compliance to go along with the 'arrest.'

Yet, it was the hidden expression latent within those once fiery azure orbs which held Near's tongue from questioning the matter. Where once Near had seen fire lighting matches meant only to fuel his characteristic explosions, now all he saw within them were the smoldering remains of all that had once been, and what could have been.

It was the look of maturity overlaid upon Mello's form which frightened Near, for he could see every broken stitch where any shred of childhood innocence and petty competition had been ripped away and replaced with the need to make substantive decisions which all held far too many sacrifices.

This new look was jarring compared to the one Near had spent years preserving in his memory. He remembered how Mello had looked, how he behaved and all the small mannerisms that had made him _him._ When he looked upon him now all he saw were the hollow echoes of a ruined empire.

Yet still the world turned and Near could not properly revel in his own nerves surrounding this change in Mello's entire being. Instead the two maneuvered through the flight from New York to Japan in a rigid reticence, as though despite the extensive history they shared, and despite all their similarities and differences somehow there didn't exist even a single word Near could say to him. In those moments Near felt utterly unequipped to say even the slightest thing to him anymore.

Four years was nothing but the blink of an eye in the grander scheme of an entire life. But for them, for Near, four years felt like an entire lifetime in itself. It was as though the distance had rendered Mello, who existed in near perpetual frustration throughout the entire journey, nothing but a familiar stranger. One Near had seen before, but couldn't quite place his face with who exactly he was.

The first day of their journey got them only as far as San Francisco, requiring them to stay overnight before progressing across the Pacific Ocean the following morning.

Rester returned from checking in at the lobby counter back to where the two successors, now carrying two sets of room keys. He offered one pair to Near and held the other for himself as he explained, "There were only two rooms left."

"Convenient." Near blandly commented, looking over the cardkey for the room number before heading to the elevator. For at least a few moments he wanted nothing more than a bit of seclusion from the world in order to more properly mull over this change in his interactions with Mello.

This was the same blonde he'd grown up with, after all… Surely somewhere along the way they hadn't become so far removed from how things used to be. But even in the off chance that they had, still Near had never had an issue talking to people before. So why now? And why Mello of all people?

"Perfect… Stuck sharing a room with you." Said blonde sarcastically commented as the elevator slid open on the tenth floor and they started down the vacant hallway with doors to the rooms on either side.

Near resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "The necessity of relocating to Japan was too sudden to allow time to arrange anything more. I'm sure somehow you'll find a way to last one night staying with me." He commented as they reached the door, room 1012.

He slipped the card into the reader, listening for the affirmative beeps before pushing it open. Flicking on the lights by the door revealed a simple room, consisting merely of a bed made up with crisp white sheets positioned against the left wall, a TV situated on the dresser parallel on along with a desk and chair beside it. Across from the entrance was a sliding glass door which led out to a balcony overlooking the airport runway. The single bathroom in the room sat on the left side of the room as well, separated off by a door plated in lightly fogged glass.

"You've got to be kidding…" Mello muttered as he stepped in, his gaze immediately locking onto one spot in the room in particular.

Near followed it curiously. Upon realization, this time he made no attempt to hold himself back from rolling his eyes, _'of course.'_ Only one bed. "Maturity, Mello." He merely commented, stepping further into the space and putting his small bag down by the dresser.

Mello, however, stayed rooted in place, "Maturity? You don't honestly think I'm sleeping _there_ do you?"

The younger shrugged, "Considering your other option is to sleep on the floor I would say yes, I do think so. But of course it's entirely your choice."

There was an almost defeated huff from the blonde which made Near smile to himself. Some things never changed.

But then… certainly others did, as evidenced in particular by the subsequent words that escaped Mello, "All of this is a bit much, don't you think? I mean, we're not even staying 24 hours." Each word was slow and careful as he moved further into the space, finally taking everything in as he put his bag down. He let himself drop down onto the edge of the bed.

"What do you mean?" Near questioned, looking over to watch him take in their surroundings. For just a moment he found himself wishing that he could see what exactly was playing within Mello's mind. What exactly did Mello see here that was so invisible to himself?

"What I mean is, was it really necessary to spend all this money on a room like this?"

Near's look narrowed on him, biting back his tongue from releasing the first response that his mind formulated. Because latent in Mello's words, staring straight back at Near, was the clearest depiction of the wedged gap between their two lives; which had stolen Mello and created this ocean of space between their two beings, seemingly too large for Near to bridge again.

"This is normal, Mello." He spoke quieter, as though any louder risked halting this sudden reveal that Mello had only just begun giving him an audience to.

After all, Mello's words made his current standpoint perfectly clear. It wasn't the quarters itself which were at fault, for they both knew that upon Mello's departing from Wammy's and Near's acquiring of the L title, their predecessor's fortune had gone to the younger successor. The point was rather the widening difference of what each considered to be normal. Where once even Mello would have expected nothing less for the figure of L, now all he saw was a waste and blatant extremism.

The difference between the current L and the former, though, was that Near harbored enough self-reflection to register such a consideration. Or rather he had Mello as a sounding board to grant him the ability to call into question what had become his own assumed sense of normal. Or perhaps Near merely wanted another means by which to bridge this apparent gap between the two of them.

Still, he could only find it within himself to respond, "You've been gone a long time." The words themselves held all the culpability he felt necessary, shrouded in enough ambiguity to allow Mello to read whatever he wanted. Some things definitely never changed.

"Not long enough." Mello muttered almost under his breath without sparing even the slightest glance. Though, Near's look remained ever trained upon him, narrowing just slightly as he let himself consider just what resided within three such simple words.

However, Mello's sigh brought the young detective's focus back onto him, narrowing just slightly as he said simply, "Whatever. I need a shower." He stood from his spot on the bed as he spoke, passing by Near without even the slightest glance giving him even the slightest glance, and shutting the bathroom door to effectively cut off whatever their meager exchange had been.

' _Strange as ever…'_ Near considered, chancing one look back over to the door while his thoughts toyed around with the idea of snooping into the older's belongings, just to see what this new version of Mello would bring for such a long trip. He half expected it to be full of nothing but chocolate bars. Hell, Near _wanted_ it to be full of nothing else but Mello's quintessential treat. At least then he would know there still remained even a fragment of childish innocence left within the blonde, rather than this mature visage that had acquired the shape of Mello, yet seemed to lack his character, or even his heart.

But in the end Near finally turned away from the temptation of Mello's bag, justifying to himself, _'Where would the fun in that be?'_ Their relationship up to this point had been an amalgamation of nothing short of a game, and now following any other course felt like conceding victory to the cruel hands of time, replacing their childish games with more cynical tools of lying and deceit.

Abandoning his own long forgotten actions at his own bag, where Near had intended on dragging out each and every toy he'd brought to accompany him on this trip, he instead went over to the glass door leading out to the balcony. Sliding it open, he stepped out onto the cold stone as his form was consumed by the chilled November air. His arms rest upon the stone barrier, watching through the waning light as planes landed and took off in succession before him.

So in hindsight, perhaps this purchase _had_ been a bit excessive for such a short stay… At least the view was nice. At least here he could allow his thoughts to wander, effectively distracted away from the imminent war being waged just over their horizon to focus instead on the more pertinent concerns that were directly in front of him.

How odd it seemed that the more time he spent with Mello, the more apparent it became just how drastically different their entire dynamic seemed to be. Though, of course he could admit that in a way the shift was understandable considering their radically oppositional positions within the justice system, and what exactly came along with such positionality.

But in that case, did that imply that Mello had fallen from grace? Or had he rather fallen into something better suited for him and his abilities?

But, on the other hand, had the chance for such a powerful position come at the cost of killing everything he'd once been? Or could it all have simply been buried down where not a soul could find it?

Well… anyone who wasn't the world's greatest detective, that is.

Near couldn't be sure how long he stood out in the cold, watching the transience of human movement play out in front of him before the sound of the glass door sliding open cut into his distant thoughts, followed by the sudden weight of something being draped over his shoulders. His senses were at once flooded with the scent of teakwood and gunpowder.

He looked down to see Mello's red coat covering his shoulders while, now beside him, Mello leaned against the stone barrier clad in nothing but loose black pajama pants. "You're going to freeze out here if you don't wear a jacket." The older genius said quietly as his look moved to the stage play conducted by the outside world while the two of theirs remained at a standstill. His azure eyes were at once illuminated by the dull lights of the runway and nearby terminal.

"Speak for yourself." Near muttered, finding himself momentarily captivated and unable to tear his gaze away from Mello, who merely smirked as he lifted a bar of chocolate up to his lips that Near hadn't realized he'd been holding. Near smirked to himself as he watched him tear the foil off then begin speaking again, "I just had a shower, my body temperature is higher than yours right now."

There was an obvious fault to his logic that Near knew he could have argued, yet in that moment he instead found himself transfixed upon the finer details of Mello's form revealed by the lack of clothing adorned on his upper half, and in a way even lower as the loose material seemed to only hang onto his hips by a wish and the meticulously orchestrated bend of his body against the stone wall.

It was primarily the faint white lines and indents, old bullet wounds, which created divots in his toned body which held Near's attention and imagination.

How badly he wanted to learn the story behind each one. Where had Mello been at the time, and what had he been doing? What had gone through his mind the moment he knew he'd been shot, or the moment after that? Had he thought he was going to die? Was he afraid? The mere question sent a painful ache through Near's heart.

"If you have something to say then just say it." Mello said, his voice tenser than before, those brilliant orbs now trained only on Near; bearing sole witness to the detective attempting to peer straight into Mello's past.

Near's eyes finally snapped up to meet him, utterly unfazed by being caught as he instead quickly responded, "Do you like working with the Mafia?"

Mello's look narrowed, the piece of chocolate he'd been about to snap off momentarily halted as though trying to now be the one to read straight through Near; to whatever motive may lay beneath the surface of the posed question. And through the moment of silence Near _did_ find himself a tad worried about what Mello would see in him. For if there was anyone that could see through him, it was Mello. Though, if he was to be honest at least part of his fear stemmed from the often distorted readings Mello made of him.

"Near, if this is your lame-ass attempt to get me to work-"

"It's not." He broke in with a simple shake of his head. "You've given a lot for their organization… a lot of time, effort and emotions the likes of which I can only _begin_ to imagine. So, I find myself wondering what continues to drive your allegiance towards them."

Finally Near looked back to the blonde, his expression consciously hiding nothing yet not entirely able to say what Mello would see. But at the same time there was no one else he would trust with such personal material. "You've changed a lot from when I knew you last. You were meant for far more than this…"

Near's words hung between them in the night air, slowly seeping into a past that clearly both would rather not speak of, and yet the likes of which always seemed to invade their every interaction. It was utterly childish, and yet here they were trying to embody even a modicum of the maturity meant for those in their positions.

Yet still Near found himself grasping onto familiar childish tactics with a vice grip. At least _that_ he understood and knew he could work with when it came to Mello. Learning this new aspect of Mello, as was precariously traversing such a dark time, was unfamiliar grounds and he couldn't entirely be sure what he'd find on the other side.

Mello finally broke off the piece of his chocolate bar, holding the piece in his mouth while his free hand came up to run through the long strands of wet blonde hair. "A lot of things have changed. _We_ were meant for more than this… We were meant for greatness, but what else have we found other than despair?"

Near released a small huff, escaping his nose in a small cloud of air while he tugged Mello's jacket closer, allowing himself just a moment to inhale the exuded deep smell that was so new to him, yet still somehow so entirely Mello that it felt as familiar as Mello himself was. He briefly closed his eyes to help commit it to memory. "I'm not sure if I would call it despair."

Mello's eyes rolled, "Everyone you know is dying around you and you don't call that despair? I shudder to imagine what you _would_ classify despair as…" His words were practically mumbled, as though meant more for himself than Near to be an audience to.

Still, he couldn't let such oddly chosen words go unheard. "Well, you're still alive. If I'm to be honest, I don't know that many people."

"Now you just sound ridiculous." Again Mello's eyes rolled, his own heavy sigh finally being released. "I'm going inside before the cold starts getting to _my_ head, too."

He turned but only made it as far as to grab the door handle before Near's sudden words stopped him again. "You never answered my question. Do you like working with the Mafia?"

A lapse of silence followed that in its own way seemed to speak the answer Mello wouldn't provide him. For Mello had always been one of quick wit and _always_ seemed to have the words to say just what he meant, even if those words inevitably got him into trouble.

But this silence… it spoke of nothing but harbored demons that he wrestled with even to this day. So perhaps the smolder lingering within his eyes was not that of someone beaten down by the atrocities faced just to claim his position at the top, but rather it was the physical manifestation of his own inner turmoil that, after so long, he was now struggling to keep within the seams of his own being.

The crueler side of Near wondered just what might happen if he was to pull just one thin seam loose.

"It's not that simple." Mello stated. "I didn't join them because I wanted to. I did it because they have the means to compete and to get me closer to you. To beating you. Even now that's all it is." As that was all he was willing to offer, the blonde pulled open the door and left Near with all that hung in the unspoken silence.

His brow creased together, thinking to himself that perhaps he had spoken too soon before. Mello had given up _everything_ just for a glimmer of hope that finally he could beat him. It was a fickle move which could only be justified by childish naiveté. Yet all Mello had found waiting for him was power handed out at the price of the very morals and values he'd once held so close, and so dear; ones more valuable to him than gold.

Looking now, it was clear that it was not the bullets which had torn Mello open over the four years the two successors had been separated, but rather by his own hand that had most effectively torn himself to absolute shreds. For it was from the shredded pieces that he could begin to build himself back up into a form better suited for this line of work, and one a much stronger force to compete with those in the organization around him.

Indeed, everyone around them was dying and Near's one saving grace, Mello, was in fact proving to be one of the countless innocent casualties caught in the crossfire. For in his own way Mello too had died, no longer the person Near had known… No longer would he ever be able to get back to that state.

They had indeed been meant for greatness… and look how far they had fallen, just to try and feel even the simplest of rays of its light.

Near swallowed a heavy lump forming in his throat as he pulled Mello's jacket ever closer around himself, relishing the protective smell as he let himself wonder… if the Mello he had grown up with, and whom he'd known so well before was now dead, then who stood before him? Did that fact necessitate a change in their disposition towards one another, to one better suited for all they had given up, and all that they were now hoping to perhaps find within each other?

There was only one way to find out.

He pulled open the glass door just as Mello had pulled back the blankets of the bed, shooting him a gaze that said _'not a word,'_ and truly Near wouldn't have dreamt of it. The very thought alone was sealed with a small smile as he neatly folded Mello's jacket over the back of the chair situated under the desk before proceeding to the right side of the bed, pulling back the covers and slipping beneath the white sheets.

The lights were then flicked off, leaving only the subtle glow from the outside casting the room in darkness that made discerning any objects barely decipherable as the two successors settled into bed, Near resting on his back while Mello lay on his side facing away from him.

The older genius then sighed in mild contentment, "You know how long it's been since I laid down without having to worry for my safety?"

Near's head fell to look to the other side of the bed, tracing the fine outline of Mello's form through the darkness as he responded, "Tell me."

"Probably since I left Wammy's." He muttered. The faint tinge of humor lingering within his words hinted at the irony of the statement. After all, Wammy's had been absolute hell for Mello growing up… or so he'd thought, until he'd actually been faced with the real world itself.

"How do you sleep?" Near questioned, hardly able to even imagine what such an existence must be like.

"I don't." Mello uttered quietly.

Near's gaze moved back up to the ceiling, "You know, to be perfectly fair, nobody really knows what might happen. For all we know a plane could veer off course and crash into the hotel."

He felt Mello's body immediately tense beside him, "Don't say shit like that!"

Near looked back over at him, trying to create a more visible image of Mello's form as best he could, "My apologies. I suppose my humor was in poor taste." The corner of his lips turned upward as though to empathize however he could with Mello's previous statement. "At least now you'll get one night of proper rest."

"It's not that simple." Mello commented, "After this long it's not something I can just turn on and off. I've been worrying about so much shit for so long that I don't' know _how_ to just put it down, even when it _is_ safe."

It was offhanded, but Near did have to release a small smile at the irony of the uttered statement, that it was with his own childhood rival that Mello actually now felt safe. Though, in comparison to the Mafia and all the hell that organization was capable of creating, perhaps the sentiment didn't mean quite as much as Near initially thought. Still, he was willing to take it at face value.

"Truthfully speaking, I don't sleep well either, though for very different reasons. The case keeps me up a lot." Near muttered, thinking of all the nights he had spent lying in bed, compliant only at the behest of Rester, though lying awake silently calculating how many people could possibly be murdered while he lay in bed uselessly.

"If only." Mello said simply, followed by the shuffling of weight in bed as he instead turned to lay on his back. In such a position Near knew that, with any more lighting, he'd be faced with the prominent scar that marred the left side of Mello's face.

Near's expression slipped into one painted with confusion and intrigue. "Does it hurt?" He found himself asking, his tone further hushed.

"Hm?"

"Your scar."

A moment of silence passed between them, though this one thick with all the potential Mello held to shut down the direction of their discussion rather than revealing, or hinting at all the demons he kept inside him. "Sometimes. Not as often anymore. It's more psychosomatic than anything, now."

Near swallowed once as he allowed himself to ask the burning question, "Can I touch it?"

He could almost feel the burn of Mello's incredulous stare fall upon him, questioning both him and any motives he may have therein. "Whatever." Mello finally released with a sigh; the roll of his eyes almost audible. The agreement alone was strange, even more so that it had been relented without any fight or need for proper justification, but Near was not about to question what had been so freely offered to him.

He inched ever closer to the older successor, hesitantly raising his fingers up as though expecting Mello to at any moment revoke the permission granted for such close contact. But it never came, and Near's fingers finally grazed over the rough skin as gingerly as he could, "Tell me if it hurts." He muttered, already distracted by his fingers tracing along the rough area of scar that extended across Mello's face, then letting his fingers move up to gently caress the delicate skin under his eyes, feeling the soft caress of eyelashes that signaled Mello's blue eyes were closed.

He wondered what exactly it must feel like to be on the other end of these motions. Was it in itself relaxing, or was it seen the potential for a hostile move, any second bringing the possibility of pain? If it was the latter then Mello certainly hid it well, for neither his body nor the muscles in his face were taut with trepidation.

Finally, Near let the pads of his thumb and other fingers slip down, following along the jagged line where the scar met the unblemished area of the remainder of his face, memorizing the sensation of how different the two were. It was like night and day, like the old Mello versus the new one lying before him.

"You know I'm going to leave when we get to Japan, right?" Mello said quietly, "This doesn't change anything."

"Yes, I know."

"Then why are you doing this?" He questioned, his tone lacking any incriminating undertones, yet in its place an airiness that seemed to demonstrate his own openness, or his own vulnerability in that moment. As though Near didn't realize the precious gift he held beneath his fingers.

"Curiosity."

"No, I mean… _all_ of this."

And of course Near knew what he meant, had known exactly what Mello had been getting at the entire time. This entire 'captivity,' if either dared to even call it that… Taking him with him to Japan, even… But what was he to say? Mello was, after all, always the better one with words. Though he knew there was no other answer he could give than the truth. Mello deserved nothing less than honesty.

"You said it yourself, Mello. Things are different. We are different. You stand now before me as the person I've known my entire life and yet… I find myself afraid to speak to you, as though you're a completely different person, one that I can no longer even hope to bridge the gap between. But that doesn't mean I don't want to understand, or that I don't want to know all of your parts just as well as I like to think I used to. In many ways you are a puzzle I have never quite been able to completely put together." The conclusion of his words tugged at Near's heart as though in that moment he'd revealed just a bit more than was necessary or than he needed to.

But the shift in the bed again, the feeling of Mello turning onto his side so that now they faced one another, and his fingers hesitantly finding their way into Mello's drying locks of hair without any protest seemed to signal otherwise. "You don't know me." Mello said with just the slightest ounce of venom upon his words, though years of experiencing far worse from him left Near unfazed.

"I want to." How the more honest side of him wanted to combat Mello's words, to insist otherwise, but being factually correct didn't always mean he'd receive the end result he was after. And what exactly _was_ he after? At the very least, whatever lay on the other end of this new tunnel they had started down.

"Why?"

"Because the mistakes we made as children don't have to be perpetuated now, let alone allowing them to run their course again. If things are indeed different, then I see no reason why all parts should not be different as well." The subtle implication being that if Near was to know Mello from now on then it should be conducted from Mello's terms, based on what he wanted to divulge, and to the best of his ability Near would just have to live with that without searching for more or for extraneous meanings. It would take practice, from both for them.

Near's fingers wove curls into Mello's golden tendrils, spinning away his own nerves at the persisting silence between them while at the same time memorizing the wondrous feel of such long strands gliding with ease over his skilled fingers. If there was one thing Near was glad had stayed the same over the years, it was Mello's hair. It suited him in just as much as it felt wondrous around his digits.

"What do you want from me?" Mello's quiet tone belied his own sense of vulnerability and the cautiousness latent within him of falling into old tendencies, of being used as nothing short of a pawn within Near's games.

"Whatever you want to give me." If there was ever one who could handle all sides of Mello, from grounding him in his highest moments to pulling him up from the pits of Hell itself, it was Near. They both knew it. But whether or not they had the words for it was another matter entirely. After all, there was only so much that four years of separation could fix.

But at the same time, so much between them felt safest when left unspoken to remain understood on each other's terms, without the complications of language. And perhaps in that moment, in that single unsteady second of their lives, that was exactly what both of them needed: the familiarity of one who knew how to handle them in ways the rest of the world didn't without the necessity for burdensome explanations or justifications beyond what they could discern for themselves within the silence itself.

Whatever the reason or the justification either of them needed or found, suddenly in the next second the dividing line separating one from the other was finally bridged and Near's heart stopped as warm lips found his own through the dark, started only again by the feeling of Mello's heart pounding against him through his chest, belying his own unspoken nerves.

Near almost smiled at the sheer innocence of such a revelation. But it was taken away just as quickly as Mello's hands gripped him, pulling him closer, resting on the small of his back as the kiss evolved, shifting with the tides of power of all that they were, all that they could be, all that they would never be.

But then where once his kisses had been soft, testing as though wondering if Near would live up to his word, they proceeded to grow in intensity. Mello's kisses against him were hard, all teeth and tongue and lips dry and firm. Like everything he did he kissed like a punishment -that, or as though he thought if he did it hard enough Near would never, _ever_ forget it.

But never in the younger detective's wildest dreams would he ever allow something so blasphemous to happen. For in that moment Near could never hope to ever be as close to Mello again. He was playing with and _testing_ the fire he'd for years seen locked within Mello's being. At this point he was beyond burned, scarred in his own way by the only being on the planet capable of afflicting such, and he found himself more than willing to accept such.

They pulled away for a moment, through the darkness watching one another with tentative gazes that questioned things neither truly wanted answers for. For answers held weight to them. Answers were damning. And for the moment, just this moment, Near wanted only to be the sole witness to their combined greatness. Even if he had to tear himself to pieces to do it. For Mello, _only Mello_ , it suddenly felt worth it.

To one another they could prove their own worth, trust, and consideration to prove himself capable of shouldering the weight of the world with him beyond the limits of the titles ascribed to them.

For a single night they were neither detective nor Mafia member, nor rivals or successors. They were merely two people locked in an ever-turning cycle, meant for greatness… yet damned only to find despair.

 _The End_

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A/N: Well hello there. It's been a while, hasn't it? I apologize for the great absence in me publishing pieces, for those who don't know I have been out of the country for the last three months. Regular weekly updates every Monday will begin starting this week now! Anyway, this piece is a prize piece requested of me by the lovely HaleyBopComet who, to make a long story short, basically wanted to see Mello and Near's conversation and interaction after their separation about how things have been going for them. I didn't quite stay within the parameters of what she requested, but still I think (hope) it came out well. I would love to hear any thoughts you have!

Please review  
 _-Forbiddensoul562_


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